


Big Rico's at lunchtime

by LoonyFred



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, affectionate!Cecil, scary!Cecil, shy!Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyFred/pseuds/LoonyFred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos and Cecil having lunch at Big Rico's. Carlos' gets to think about the nature of his feelings for Cecil, recollecting his confusion, even occasional panic attacks triggered by Cecil's affection. Carlos' POV, some bittersweet yet a little bit malevolent Cecil and lots of fluffy feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Rico's at lunchtime

Cecil fetches Carlos from his lab at lunchtime, although the scientist isn’t quite sure whether it is actually lunchtime, or may be it’s already dinnertime, but Cecil did say ‘lunch’ didn’t he? So Carlos can’t help but agree with Cecil that it is, indeed, lunchtime and follows his new – and, to be honest, first – boyfriend willfully to ‘Big Rico’s.  
‘I know you, scientists, always forget to have proper meals,’ Cecil says on their way to the pizza place, gesturing enthusiastically and never letting Carlos out of the sight of his third eye. Oh, that eye, Carlos thinks, definitely something to get used to.

Waiting for the order, they cuddle in the cozy little corner on the cozy little couch, its plastic skin – at least Carlos hoped it is plastic – screeching loudly every time any of them shifts their body position. Cecil has his tattooed arms all around Carlos, all three eyes looking at him with awe, and fondness, and extreme devotion with a little touch of despair, or may be, just may be, slight irritation about something Carlos isn’t quite ready to tell yet, but OK, dating has never been his cup of tea, and that’s what he’s told Cecil numerous times, right? Still, the radio host’s three eyes are mostly full of ecstatic affection, and Carlos decides not to worry just yet.

Cecil. Cecil. Ce-cil… Just the thought of the sound of this name sends chills down Carlos’ spine. And when those thin pale lips of Cecil with a gentle touch of violet form the shape of his own name, when he speaks about the scientist on the radio, it’s damn hot. Carlos has felt this way from the very first time Cecil mentioned him in his show.  
‘You’re quiet today,’ Cecil says, and that bit of irritation in his intense gaze slightly grows bigger, more prominent. Though Carlos isn’t sure if it is irritation at all. Could it just be… concern? Is it what it looks like on Cecil’s face? Carlos is, indeed, not in a talkative mood this afternoon. No, not afternoon, lunchtime, yes, that would be more specific since time doesn’t work in Night Vale in the usual way. So Carlos smiles, runs his fingers through Cecil’s hair and presses a gentle yet quite a long kiss over his boyfriend’s pale lips. When he pulls away it is gone, the irritation or concern, or whatever emotion there was in Cecil’s eyes that puzzled Carlos. Now there is pure happiness. And also awe, and joy, and double… no, more like triple affection. And Cecil’s cheeks are now red. And Carlos likes him this way even more.

The pizza is here, and, surprisingly, it is a real one, with _actual_ bread. Big Rico comes to them and personally assures it is NOT at all made of wheat or its by-products, and says he even has got a governmentally approved certificate to confirm that. Carlos and Cecil, in fact, don’t care. They’re too busy consuming their pizza. Carlos suddenly finds himself starving, having no memories of his last meal, so he shoves the biggest slice into his mouth chewing really loud and having oil all over his face. Could he have been starving for days? Weeks, may be? Gosh is he hungry right now!

Cecil uses a fork and a knife, and seems to be frowning just a little bit at the way Carlos is devouring his pizza, but says nothing, and the triple affection isn’t going anywhere. When they’re done, he takes a napkin and cleans Carlos’ face tenderly of the oil.  
‘Always wanted to do that,’ he murmurs placing a chaste kiss in the corner of the scientist’s mouth. 

And Carlos’ heart leaps, his cheeks are hot, and his pants… No, no he’s not ready yet, is he? Isn’t he? Hasn’t he told himself they’re going to take it slow, no hurry… no need to hurry at all…

But then Cecil’s phone rings loudly, he looks at the screen, and frowns.  
‘Sorry, I’ve got to answer that’, he says, and then speaks to the caller, his voice emanating unpleasant aggravated waves running down Carlos’ spine. Oh, how he wouldn’t want to have this tone addressed to him, he thinks, getting the shivers.  
‘This better be important,’ Cecil says, sounding a bit like he’s got a knife or some other kind of sharp blade prepared to decapitate the caller or, at least, carve the words ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ into their chest or whatever body part he finds suitable for that act. ‘Haven’t I told you that I’d be busy at lunchtime having LUNCH with perfect Carlos?! Oh… They are?.. Oh. OK. Put them on my desk. No, you do NOT read them. Just put them there. On my desk. Thank you, Dylan.’

‘Is there a problem?’ Carlos asks as Cecil is finished with the call.  
‘Apparently Station Management aren’t happy with the amount of unattended fanmail, so they demand I go through it. I’ll have to leave you, my perfect Carlos, a bit earlier today, is that alright?’  
‘Of course,’ Carlos nods. ‘But please, Cecil, I’ve told you I’m not perfect’.  
‘Oh, but you are!’ he smiles and adds with even more confidence in his calm soothing affectionate voice ‘You definitely are perfect in all senses.’  
Carlos gasps, he suddenly cannot breathe, having somewhat like a tiny panic attack. He’s got quite accustomed to them already; in fact, he used to have them daily since the time of his arrival. The fist one came, like, a minute or so after he’d got off the bus. Then the one that got him most terrified was Cecil talking about his haircut, oh that was damn scary. Actually, Cecil’s been triggering Carlos’ panic attacks quite often, not that often these days, but still, sometimes. Especially when he calls Carlos ‘perfect’, then the scientist can’t help it.

So here he is, with his eyes wide open, gasping desperately for some air, and having second thoughts about fleeing ‘Big Rico’s’ as fast as he can, or… longing to hold Cecil tightly against his own body, or even have him sit on his lap and kiss Cecil, not gently, no, not shyly, but fiercely and greedily and with needy moans and sighs and… and… and may be rip off this smart neat shirt of his, and… or flee. Yes, that would definitely be an option. Instead, he gulps nervously and awkwardly and says:  
‘Twas pretty good pizza, huh?’  
Cecil smiles at him playfully, leans over to his ear and gently whispers:  
‘It is, in fact, disgusting. But the opinion-suggestive devices installed by the government make you think it’s good… They’ve got ‘em – devices – almost everywhere around the town. I bet there’s one in your lab, as well… But don’t tell anyone, or they’ll have me re-educated.’

Oddly as it may seem, Carlos’ panic attack stops at once, as he hears about the secret devices. A similar idea has, in fact, already crossed his mind when talking to some citizens about the Lottery, feeling quite intrigued by the obvious dissociation between what they were saying about the event (‘Splendid! Impeccable! An absolutely vital rite of our town!’) and their facial expressions, dreaded, morose, downright horrified.

‘Cecil, do you think…’ he starts, unsure if he really wants to know the answer or not, contemplates a second or two, but then, driven by the innate scientific curiosity, finds the strength to finish the question, ‘Do you think these devices could be affecting… you know… us?’  
‘Oh you mean, can they be causing the ultimately unconditional sensation of genuine awe and undeniably immense adoration we have for each other?’ Cecil hesitates for a brief moment, and then, with a wide smile, he says: ‘Most probably, yes’.  
Carlos’ heart nearly breaks, as he isn’t at all prepared for such a blunt and utterly _merciless_ reply; and he's hoped what they feel for each other is, indeed, genuine and… and…pure, and… real? Could it be real? Just a little? Is there a slightest possibility for it to be real? Most likely not, but… 

… Cecil just keeps smiling at him, as if it’s not, at all, a big deal. He caresses Carlos’ cheek with leisured softly strokes of his fingers. And his smiling lips are just so close and so full of imaginary honey.  
‘Who cares?’ he shrugs, grinning in a most delightful way. ‘Oh, Carlos, I just _l-l-love_ you _so_ much!’  
And then… the kiss.  
And then the scientist gets it. He gets it all. It really isn’t a big deal.  
The joy he feels when Cecil’s mouth covers his, the burning heat in his heart and cheeks, the subtle yet perceptible flutter of butterflies in his stomach – that, however, is a big deal. Enormously big, if you could say that.


End file.
